When he drinks

I hate it when he drinks
I can always tell:
The shuffle swayed
The voice slurs
The nonsensical words

When he drinks
Something deep inside erupts:
Rage
Anger
Bitterness
Cold
FEAR

He reminds me of her:
Her vanity controlling her
Her disregard for everything
Her walking into walls

It's like she never really died
She lives here all around me
I can never be free of her.

Again, I have to fend for myself
Again, enormous burdens await me
Again, I need to make excuses
Again, I need to do battle, myself.

Face untold enemies
Exhibit strength I do not have
Grow up too quickly

I never thought I'd be here again.
I never thought I'd feel so alone.

Lost

Ok, so here's the thing.

I lost my child yesterday.. while walking around in my neighborhood.

And the award for worst mommy goes to .... ME!

We took a normal walk around the retention pond area. It's a normal circle of a little less than a mile. We've done this route many times before.. with our dog, Sahsha. My son explores the trees. He finds odd  paw prints and plays a game of going ahead of me and I catch up. He goes really fast, catches his breath, I eventually catch up and he can hardly keep up after two rounds of those sprints.

He turned the corner, I didn't see him until I turned that corner, he was running.. I thought he would explore the rocks in the ravine... like he always did.

I got closer, and closer and didn't see him.

I looked around the hill and STILL didn't see him.

Before the panic took me somewhere where I couldn't breathe, couldn't think rationally, I prayed that God would keep him safe and help him find his way.

A peace washed over me. The peace the surpasses understanding and doesn't let me sit in a corner and rock back and forth.

Then... I didn't see him playing by the rocks, I looked everywhere I knew.. OH MY GOD! I can't find him. OH MY GOD! I have to call my husband and tell him what a sorry piece of shit I am and I lost our child.

Holy FUCK! Sheer cold dread washed over me.

I called... no fucking answer... dammit! My imagination ran the fuck away and ... oh. no.


I ran into the street, screaming my boy's name in a manic frantic fucking panic.. DREW!! DREW!!! DREW!!!

Cars stopped and slowed as I ran crazy in the street looking up and down, surely I will die right now of a heart attack. I called my husband again... and he answered with, "Drew's home."

Oh, my god. I was torn between peaceful relief and sheer terror of what could have happened to him.

On the walk home, I wasn't sure if I was going to hug him and praise him for finding his way home or beat the crap outta him for running away from me.

I've been working on writing this story for a couple days and I wanted to end it with a moral, a quote, something to tie it up with a pretty bow and say everything will be alright.

Truth is, some days suck. Some days I fail miserably. Some days I'm lost in the "what-ifs."

What if I never saw him again? What if he ran into the street with an oncoming vehicle? What if?

I.can't.even.

I Saw The Sign

I have a tendency to gravitate to the idea that coincidences do not exist. When like things are coming at you, there is a message. Like 2 weeks ago at church when Dinah's story came up. I unearthed an old copy of The Harlot By the Side of the Road and Other Forbidden Tales of the Bible. It opened my eyes again to the magic and amazing storytelling within the pages on this ancient text. Then, Dinah's name kept appearing and through a strange set of circumstances, I stumbled upon The Red Tent The Miniseries. 

I was convinced Dinah was speaking to me from the grave with a massively important message. I got through the movie in about 3 days and the words hit me deep, cutting my heart in pieces and bleeding. Words need to be said, I need to stop asking why and lay this burden of bitterness at the feet of redemption.

I've seen this sign before, read the scriptures, but this time it was clear and unmistakable. The path was light up bright and I still just stand here paralyzed.

Then another message...

Our bedroom area has a bit of an electrical short. Every so often, I plug in the vacuum and boom! darkness. The mister has to go flip a breaker switch and we're back in the light. It's been happening more and more these days. Yesterday when it shorted, it took out some lights in the master bath. Not just any lights, the bulbs on my side of the vanity. I heard them speaking to me again. My fear of rejection is dimming the lights on our marriage. I stand still, frozen in time, unmovable, my pride taking center stage unable to let go and forgive.

It’s coming for me

It’s coming for me.

I can feel it. The anxiety is kicking in. There’s a disturbance out in the seas of my stomach. It’s ready to wage war on my heart, my body, and it wants to take my mind captive. This is the time of year I can’t escape the grips of the black hole. Numbness takes over. Apathy is a constant. Time ceases to exist. My eyes cannot capture light. Welcome to my hell.

The only thing to do is to weather this storm and try and hold on for dear life. I try to remember: this does end.

My childhood home was a built on a pile of ashes. The spirit of anger, bitterness, and rage rose up to destroy everything. My mother hated me for being born. She must have had other dreams for her life. She detested that I bared the image of my father. She couldn’t stand his affection for me. She lived in the midst of jealousy and rejection. I was never accepted. I never could belong… anywhere. I didn’t know how. I was easy prey to anyone in the world. Anyone who showed me affection became my obsession. Any substance that made me feel good became a way of life.

I found life in these words I write. I found meaning in literature. I saw stars align in physics class. I had a gift no one else did. I could put things together, solve difficult problems, make equations balance.

I found my way out, the path I could carve myself with my hands and feet.

But she wouldn’t let me go. Oh no. Her words seared and branded my soul:

“You’re ugly.”

“I hate you.”

“I wish you were never born!”

In an effort to end it all, I tried to take my life at 17. Thanks to my father, I was unsuccessful. He finally showed up. He finally let me know that I mattered. He finally protected me from her mental illness.

It was much too late. The damage was irreparable.

The minute I left my house, I searched this earth looking for a home, a place of refuge, somewhere to belong. I still wander in this black hole seeking forms of light as these walls close in on me.

On Marriage

It’s no secret: marriage is hard. Sharing air, space, a bed, a life with someone else is not happily ever after.

Last May we celebrated our 11 year anniversary. These last couple years have been rough. We have stopped seeing the best in each other. Time passes. There are so many conflicts, hurts, wounds, misunderstandings, and distance. We force our lines, smile pretty for the pictures. We’ve both wanted to quit more times than we care to admit. 

The road to reconciliation is not paved. It’s filled with thistles, thorns, overgrowth… a wasteland of obstacles; weeds of unforgiveness, selfishness and silence. We need armor and supernatural weapons to wade through.

Love has gotten lost amongst the dirty dishes, remembering to set the coffee maker, a ridiculous amount of laundry, medical crises, an overwhelming stack of bills, things that need to be fixed around the house, a baby that doesn’t want to sleep, and anxiety about our future.

We used to know how to do this. We used to pray for each other and laugh at the days to come. We used to think we were invincible. We used to think nothing could stop us. We had passion; we were driven against all odds. We have forgotten who we are without all these strings of obligations and roles.

This rift, this chasm between us- I’m still trying to figure out if we can fix it. Our hands are broken. Our feet have failed us yet again, and hope… hope has disappeared. Our trust has been severed.

A crisis of faith is tearing us apart.

They tell us to use the weapon of gratefulness. There are numerous things to be thankful for: our son who is happy and makes us whole: he is our light amidst these dark days. Our home which shelters us from so many storms - provides refuge, peace. Our family who shows us that love shows up in person, no matter what; they help us laugh at ourselves and carry us through tough times by praying for us, fixing a leak, troubleshooting computers, helping us unpack into our new home, planning the kids’ birthday parties, and making the pecan pie that is out of this world!

Love is actions. Love is Steve catching the fact that I left boiling water on the stove and got lost in another project. He makes the rest of lunch for me. He sees me in the garden, and brings me a bag for all the weeds I toss to and fro. He comes home with another bottle of my favorite wine since I ran out last night. He cleans the car seat after Drew has thrown up everywhere. He finds me the Sonicare toothbrush I wanted for Christmas. He comes looking for me on my walk around the neighborhood after my phone went dead. Steve gets up every morning, gets Drew ready for school, starts my car even on the coldest of mornings, and loads up Drew’s book bag and essentials for school despite the fact that he’s in excruciating pain and would much rather lay in bed and not face the day.

Ministry and missions is not always about serving the needs afar. More often than not, the poor, the destitute, the broken are under our own roof bleeding uncontrollably by our own hands as we do the mad dash out the door.

Sometimes, the one bleeding uncontrollably is you.

So here’s the plan: we continue going forward… whether we’re walking or crawling, arming ourselves with the shield of gratefulness and the weapon of actions. We continue to have hope for tomorrow. We ask for prayers and courage for the dark days. We laugh more. We build each other up with love, encouragement and try not to take everything so seriously. Above all, we stretch out our hands in friendship and kindness. These are the things we have missed most in the last couple years.

Alignment

I can tell things are going in the right direction:

My mind is open, writing is more frequent.

I sing at all hours, there's all of a sudden room to dance.

Dear Book Out There in the Cosmos: 

My hands are ready to create. This world needs your story. I'm ready to finally write it. I will welcome you with open arms. 

Dear Muses: 

The table's been set, the candles are lit, the wine is chilled. I will make you a lovely feast fit for kings and queens. It's a safe place now. 

EIGHT

Could it really have been eight years ago? EIGHT?

Eight years ago, we got the devastating call. The one that made me howl out to the heavens.

Tears that just stream and won’t stop.

The news that made my heart stop, air is sucked out of the room by an unknown force.

Some way, somehow… the world kept turning as I decided to stay still.

Some way, somehow… the minutes became years and I laughed again.
My mourning was turned into joy.

 Joy unspeakable.

Breath came back to me.

Heart beats another melody.

Life came back.

Forgiveness bestowed.

Healing ensues.

Stories weave.

We step forward, sometimes we step back or turn. Sometimes we are still… and remember.

dreams deferred

Building a marriage and family
I somehow thought..
it would end my loneliness

I'm still here
There
In the empty school parking lot

My parents dumped me off
They were too busy with other things

I was the burden
Undesirable

I couldn't speak
say what I wanted
needed

No.

I give.. EVERYTHING
every
ounce
I
Have

And I'm still alone

Empty
in
the
parking lot

Hiatus

Ok, so I know I've been absent for awhile.

I'm working on it.

It's hard.

Everyday I want to write. I want to be free.

I get scared... of.. EVERYTHING.

Of.. people knowing the real me.

I just... I just... don't know if I can.

I am working on it.

trying to write everyday.

I know it will propel me forward in ways I never imagined.

I know it will be worth the sacrifice.

I'm looking down and almost ready to jump in.

ALMOST.

On Divorce

I am a child of divorce, an innocent bystander at the age of eleven, a casualty of war.

 

There's no real way to describe the terror and destruction left behind:

The pain,

the guilt,

the anger...

remains long after they have left this world.

 

I heard a sermon that helped me see outside of myself, outside of my pain and gain a perspective on the other side: my mother's side of this whole thing.

 

I never gave her much credit while she was living. I never valued her then... or now. 

She was a victim of a mental illness. Although she couldn't help the way she behaved, it still hurt and paralyzed me.

 

I respond in mean and hurtful ways to those that love me because of the years of abuse I endured. It's clear now to me that I fear acceptance, love and family. Somewhere in this brain I am afraid this will all come crashing down and explode; leaving me again amongst the ruins. I walk around with reptilian skin... anyone who touches me will be poisoned with my venom.

 

I never thought of her and her pain of rejection when my dad wanted a divorce. Even when they got back together a couple years later, she was still haunted... I can see how it killed her inside. She was dead long before she passed away years ago.

 

I have trouble honoring her in a meaningful way... then again she's another poor soul, a victim, another casualty of war.

 

Someday, I will let it all go and shed this skin.

 

 

 

 

The script

These days are fatigued and long
Anticipation, then dread.

I wish I had a script
A character to get into
A plan of action
Makeup and wardrobe

Then I remembered..
I do have a script.
It's been there all along..
In fact I have about 11 of the same scripts:

 

 

 

Putting my head and heart in the word these next couple weeks. Hiding it in my heart and wielding it as a weapon when the storm comes.

 

 



Priceless

New shoes for an interview: $79.99
Suntan Nylons: $2.50
Styling gel to control my curly hair frizz: $3.50
New wardrobe for a new job: $367.15
Not dreading another Monday morning: PRICELESS!
Having a week off before I start: AMAZING!

Belong

It was 3AM the other night. Drewbie-doo was screaming like crazy. Daddy tried to comfort him but he needed mommy. He wanted it to be "morning". He was inconsolable for awhile.

Then we brought him into bed with us. Finally after much shuffling and contorting ourselves into crazy positions, he fell asleep.

I got a glimpse of his profile in the dark.... and I remembered why I never slept those first weeks of him being born. I was back there 3 years ago, fascinated with his beautiful face, his presence. I couldn't stop staring at him. I couldn't believe he was real. So real. I couldn't fathom.. this...this.. this... came from me?


He's in the living room now, having a "picnic" of cheese-itz and peanut butter crackers, watching Toy Story... again.
I am so blessed to be a mother, to create life, to relive my childhood in glorious ways through his eyes.

So glad I got startled awake that night. It helps me be so thankful for the sleep I get to have 98% of the time and I got to remember and smile at those first few months.

I belong here. Right here. Right now. Everything is as it should be.

Aging

Aging

Those days when your metabolism says, "No, I will not perform like I did when you were in your 20s."

When the buldge just won't go away

Unless you completely stop eating

Some days, the thought is not that appalling.

 

 

Another day, another gray hair

Thank goodness for a $7.00 bottle of hair color.

With undisclosed chemicals I'd rather not know about.

 

 

Sunday morning routine:

Try to find something that doesn't make me look frumpy

Cry

Repeat

 

 

When marriage changes dramatically

from rainbows and sunshine

to roommates occupying space

each of us wondering how we got here

 

 

When you realize, happiness and comfort

Are not the goals

 

 

The depressing moment

When you realize

The work involved

In serving

Others

 

 

Sure, it's noble.

Yes, it's right

The rewards are far off and worth it

I know, I know.

 

 

Evolving into another being

Painful to say the least

Necessary

but heartbreaking

To leave her behind.

 

 

 

Work

It's been crazy here.
Stress makes my hair fall out by the handfuls
The words send chills down my spine: restructuring, reorganizing, rebranding.
Work. Corporate America.
The things I thought would make me happy and a success have disappointed... again.

I thought I was valued, important.
What I do... doesn't matter

I am a dispensable asset.
People who I thought were my friends, were enemies all along
I was just being used.

Didn't think I'd be here again.
Didn't think I would have given a part of my heart to this job.
But I did.

Now I'm hurt and pained at their betrayal.

"Don't take it personal," they say, but I do. It IS personal.

It DOES matter.

Once again, I question my goals, my career, and realize this isn't where I want to be. This isn't what I want to do.

There are new opportunities on the horizon.
There are probably things out there that will make me so much happier, more fulfilled.

Here in the trenches, it's hard to see the light.

Easter 2013 -- "I Happy!"

It was a lovely day. A Sunday morning. We put everything together for Easter.

Set up the camera and tripod.

Little boy blue was thrilled. We blew bubbles, he squealed with delight.

We laughed in the light of the morning sun…In the day of our risen Savior.

 

I got some cute PJs to lounge around in the house. Black ones with polka dots!! I love them forever.

I got my man some Aqua Di Gio cologne. A scent that brings me back to 10 years ago.. the years of adventures, road trips, the beach, the silent conversations, the passion of life.

 

We went to church, a little 3 month old baby with fat cheeks studied me until he discovered my newly sparkly painted red nails that were his obsession throughout the service. Prayed for that family and all the people that worked this event to make it amazing.

 

Then it was nap time for the boys and time for me to make the pie. The amazing banana caramel pie that makes me shout Halleluiah!!

 

Little boy blue played in his crib and would have none of this naptime business. We wait for the rain to slow down, load up the car and head over the Grandma’s.

 

The children play and chase each other.

 

We sit down together for dinner.

We pray.

Little boy blue has us pray two more times while he leads in his Drewberish. We understand a little as he thanks the Lord for Mimi, Mummy and Daddy. He proclaims AMEN with the fervor of an old school baptist minister. We laugh. He looks around and says, “I HAPPY!”

 

We laugh again. We nod. Yes, we’re happy too.  

So happy.

My Prayer Partner

This post inspired me to ask Kristen to be my prayer partner.

We started just about a month ago. Praying together via weekly emails has been a great blessing to my life. Kristen and I have known each other for years. We’ve done bible studies together along with being in a professional organization throughout our careers. We’ve celebrated, cried, laughed, griped and celebrated some more.

It’s been nice to have her as a prayer partner because she’s basically seen me at my worst and at my best. When I ask for prayer on particular issue in my marriage, she knows how irritating I can be with my constant perfectionist nature. She knows if the cast of characters around me don’t follow the script that I forgot to give them, it’s maddening to be around me. She knows which scripture to pray and asks the Lord to cover me with me with his peace. She gives wise counsel I know is from the Lord above.

 “Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” Matthew 18:19-20

Afraid

It's Five Minute Friday!

The rule: Write for 5 minutes flat for pure unedited love of the written word.

Today's prompt: AFRAID

Here we go!

------------------------

afraid, adj.

Afraid.. an emotion I’ve known for most of my life.

Childhood--

Afraid of:

getting a beating, getting in trouble, disappointing someone , maybe someone laughing at me.

Teenager –

Afraid of:
Wearing the wrong clothes yet again, saying the wrong thing yet again, disappointing someone

 20s--

Afraid of:
Being alone

 Present—

Afraid of:
Missing out by being a full time working mother.

Future-

Afraid of:
Not being there. Regretting the decisions of the now.

 

Don't miss it

It's been a rough couple weeks:
Sinus infection that turned into bronchitis that turned into pneumonia.
Days of laying down in bed.
Caught up on all the shows.
Caught up on my magazines.

It was a rough couple weeks. I felt miserable, depressed, sad... annoyed to be so unproductive.
Then a moment came upon me. I moved my head all around panaromic style and realized how blessed I am in this sweet shelter of my home, surrounded by glorious paintings, the love of a great, tender man and the little hands that hug me with all his might.
Oh those little hands.
Those sweet cheeks that balloon up when he smiles. Those dimples melt me every time!

Accomplishing tasks, to do list and goal setting has been my life since ... since I had a first memory. These weeks amid the hacking coughs, the misty haze behind the Kleenex, between nebulizer treatments and nasty cough medicines have revealed another deeper layer.

I catch a glimpse of it every so often but it's fleeting and all too short.

This hiatus helped me see something that I too often miss.

This job.. here at home... is the most important. I can't give my best to a world that is fickle and give the leftovers to the ones who matter most.

This world often will disappoint. This world won't remember that you need your medicine every four hours. This world won't tenderly attend to your needs when you're down. This world won't be there at the hour when you're about to give up.

This home and the people that encompass it, they are the ones who deserve my absolute hardest work.

It's a messy, crazy, chaotic place. It's maddening and heartbreaking. Mirrors show your imperfections all around. No hiding behind spanx or makeup. Just you, raw and real.

This man: whom I share a bed with, who I share air and space, he loves me... truly loves me and all my insanity. He believes in everything I do. He thinks I'm talented and bright. He forgives all my moments of fear and forgets they ever happened!

And that little boy's face: the joy that sends him running to me like crazy, his blanket whizzing behind him. My body may never be the same, but to him, I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, even when I'm at my worst. To him, I'm the super hero that can make bubbles. Right now, I'm his best friend, his favorite treat, his one true love. There is nothing like this love of a child. So surreal, so cosmic, so beautiful. A small glimpse of heaven it is.

How have I forgotten this beautiful gift?

The gift of motherhood, the gift of family, don't miss it.. for anything!

It's been too long...

I know you haven’t heard from me in too long.

What I’ve been up to lately:

·         Trying to find time to memorize 2 songs and play them well before my piano lesson. If I don’t practice and put in the time, it’s the most miserable hour!

·         Reading Anna Karenina for book club

·         Reading 50 Shades Darker well past midnight

·         Doing Colossians Bible Study with Good Morning Girls.

All of this in the midst of diapers, dishes, caring for a messed up shoulder, trying to stay connected with my man, and sleep… Sleep..haven’t seen her in a long time.